


Cake

by MrCourtesy



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Choose Your Own Porn, Experimental Style, Fight Sex, Food Sex, Happy Independance Day, Heavy BDSM, Light BDSM, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrCourtesy/pseuds/MrCourtesy
Summary: I meant to post this for Bucky's birthday, but here's the beginning of a "Choose Your Own Porno" project that I thought might be fun.It's Bucky's birthday, but the Winter Soldier was told 'cake' meant something else...





	1. Ruske Kape

 

Bucky slams Steve back into the wall, tearing his shirtsleeve off with his left hand and holding him to the wall by his throat with his right. Their teeth meet with a solid clack as Bucky grinds his hips down into his surprised friend’s open legs, Steve opening his mouth in a gasp, only able to take what’s happening to him in stride. Every time he tries to ask Bucky what’s happening, he’s silenced with a mouth across his own, and fighting just seems to make Bucky more violent. When he pushes back, Bucky breaks the kiss and sinks his teeth into the meat of his collar and tears the back of his shirt away after twisting his fist in the fabric.

 

“Bucky—Buck— _shit_ ! You—you gotta stop—Bu— _oh!_ ” Steve pants as Bucky pulls him close, lapping where his incisors dug in previously, wrapping his arms around him to press his thigh back into Steve’s groin. He pulls him up so he no longer touches the floor, his hands at the apex of his thighs, squeezing and cupping just above them, pulling him into a proper kiss when he doesn’t resist. James’ mouth is hot and licentious on Steve’s; his clever tongue pulls sounds from Steve that he cannot control, his lips are soft and wicked, opening to swallow the quiet ‘ah, ah, ah’s that pour out, grinning against him.

 

Steve allows this for all of a minute before coming to his senses; forcing him off so that he’s pushed into the opposite wall and stumbling away. He scrambles down the hallway, but James catches him and they crash to the floor, wrestling for control until Steve pins him to the ground, straddling him. Undulating his hips, Bucky seems pretty satisfied with pressing up into Steve’s body, driving him to distraction as he tries to hold down Bucky’s wrists. Glittering dark eyes look up at him as he tries to decide what to do with him now that he’s got him, laughing at his arousal and dismay.

 

“Bucky, what is this?” He pleads, re-establishing his grip as Bucky wriggles in his grasp. The soldier is silent except for his quiet chuckling. He gives Steve a look as he gives his hips a slow, languorous roll, eyes low-lidded as he bites his lower lip. Hissing, Steve pulls him up and shoves him into the living room so he collides with the couch. Lunging at him, Bucky draws close so they’re chest to chest, leaning onto the couch. He wraps his legs around Steve’s as Steve tries to push his arms away, and with tricky, quick hands pops open the buttons at his fly.

“Bucky, Bucky, c’mon—STOP!” Steve yells, and Bucky’s hands still, his thumbs in the waistline of Steve’s pants. Chastised, Bucky looks up at Steve with eyes wide, the only sound between them their soft panting.

 

“Why… why are you—“ Steve starts, his hands still on Bucky’s, not moving, just stopped, when James finally speaks.

“Cake.” He says, his voice rough with disuse.

“Cake? What do you—“ Steve looks at the counter, where there indeed is the cake for Bucky’s birthday, the bright light of the kitchen flickering off the blue and green buttercream. Suddenly uneasy, Steve looks back at the Soldier, who’s abruptly very, very, close.

“My reward?” The Soldier says, whispering onto his lips as he tugs gently at Steve’s waistband.

 

“Uh…” Steve says, his mind a thousand different places. “I can’t—ah, it’s…” He passes a hand through his hair and sighs with frustration as the Soldier tries to coax him into another kiss, brushing his lips against Steve’s. Steve shakes his head and holds him back, “It’s for James, not you. You’ve been… misbehaving…”

The Soldier gets an odd look and shudders against Steve, then falls limp and blank for a moment, catatonic to the point where Steve has to catch him from falling over the back of the couch.

“Bucky? Bucky?” Shaking him, Steve lifts him and lays him on the couch, sitting next to him, checking for damage. He’s caught off guard when a metal hand wraps around his wrist. He nearly pulls away, but he looks up at just the right moment, catching a glimpse of a familiar smirk and locking eyes with his childhood friend.

 

“Worrywart,” Bucky says fondly, brushing the back of his right hand against Steve’s cheek. Quietly, Steve whispers, “I… I lost you for a minute there.”

 

Looking at Steve anew, Bucky spots the red marks going down his friend’s chin and neck, his tattered shirt, and his rumpled, unbuttoned khakis.

“I guess… I guess I really did a number on you, didn’t I? Did I… Did I—“

“No,” Steve says firmly, and then adds with a blush, “You were just… a bit too excited...”

Bucky’s not sure what to say to that.

The silence between them sits hotly for another beat until Steve nods in the direction of the cake as he tries to tidy himself back up. “So, ah, happy birthday?”

 

His blush gets redder until Bucky flicks him on the nose, looking away.

*~*

For Vanilla, Continue to Pound Cake

To press the Issue, Continue to Death by Chocolate

For S and M, Continue to Red Velvet

 


	2. Pound Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For something a little less heavy...

“Get up, you punk, let’s at least cut the cake,” Bucky says brusquely, rising and pulling Steve up. “Go.... change, and I’ll get us some plates.” He waves at Steve, staunchly not looking at him any more, but Steve can see the tips of his ears and the back of his neck still have a reddish hue.  
After changing out of the tattered rags that made up his former shirt, Steve comes back to the kitchen to find that Bucky’s straightened everything out that got toppled in their struggle, and has his suit back to near perfection (only the stretched seam on the shoulder of his blazer belies that he might not be as gentlemanly as he looks). Smiling, Steve gets a cake spatula from the drawer and turns the lights low as his long-time companion looks at the flickering candles as though hypnotised. He frets about this a bit, but then remembers that this is the first birthday he’s gotten to share with him in over seventy years, and while he was asleep for most of that time, Bucky wasn’t--one way or another.

“What are you thinking about?” Steve asks, almost a whisper, hoping not to startle him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as he sets down a set of plates and forks. Blinking away from where ever he was, Bucky chuckles, shifting his hands in his pockets. “Remember my sixteenth birthday?” He says quietly, leaning to light the candles that extinguished while they were tussling.

Steve goes stock still.  
He hadn’t thought that Bucky remembered that day before the war, let alone now. The air goes too warm around him to blame on the spring evening, and he looks away, adjusting his collar. A low coil of heat blooms unbidden in him at the memory of that night, but he doesn’t want to embarrass himself just in case. So he says, “The one where Prudence Finkley decked you in the nose for knocking down her cousin? Who could forget that?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, a sudden mischievous glint to his smirk, “Do you remember what happened after that?”  
“How we got beat up by that gang of harpies?” Steve offers, his temperature rising. He undoes a button and tries to look busy arranging the two dishes on the table as Bucky sits down. His gaze feels like twin lasers on Steve’s body, and Steve feels naked even in his button down and slacks. “Not quite,” Bucky drawls, his tone low and hungry, the shine of his teeth flash in a smile but seem more like a warning for unwitting prey.  
Steve swallows hard and goes to the kitchen to get the cake knife from the drawer near the sink. As he reaches over to retrieve it, he feels the press of another body all the way from his hips to his calves. Startled, Steve drops the knife with a sharp gasp, hands meeting Bucky’s bruising grip on his hips.

“Bucky!”  
“Do you remember, Steve? Please tell me--tell me I’m not the only one who remembers-” James presses his forehead to the nape of Steve’s neck, breath hot against Steve’s spine.

*~*

 

Continue to Lemon Poppyseed (Coming Soon)


	3. Red Velvet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate with a twist

Red Velvet

“That night?” Steve finally says as Bucky’s right hand brushes against a taut nipple through his shirt. Nuzzling into the crook of Steve’s neck, Bucky says a breathy ‘yeah’, and Steve shudders in his grip. He snags his wrist when Bucky’s other hand drifts near his waistline, writhing.  
“I’ll tell you after you let me go, Buck, how about that?”

A beat passes, and then Steve feels Bucky’s arm relax as he reluctantly lets go, stepping barely far enough away for Steve to turn around. “Buck.” Steve warns, face stern until Bucky backs off a bit. Slipping past him Steve sits down at the table in front of the cake, whose candles are melting into little puddles that crown the icing in little red pools. He straightens his shirt and points to the other chair.  
“Sit.” He says, and crosses his legs expectantly. James balks and opens his mouth as if to speak--but Steve holds up a hand and says, “If you remember anything about that night, then you know that that’s not at all how it went. Sit down, Barnes.”

Mouth suddenly dry, James sits promptly, his throat working to swallow.  
“Now blow out your candles,” Rogers says, his voice suddenly all too pleasant, hands clasped in his lap, blue eyes lit with a sudden spark as Bucky leans over the table, making a show of blowing them out. When he finishes he looks to Steve, who nods.  
“Happy birthday, Bucky. You’ve done very well.”  
A bright flush hits him at the sudden praise, and he fumbles for words when Steve says, “Now stand up.”  
Eyebrows quirked, he gives Steve a questioning look as he obeys, pushing in the chair once he’s stood.  
“Very good. Now I would like you to undress, Mr. Barnes.”

 

To Continue, Tiramisu (Coming Soon)

For Bucky on top, Strawberry Chocolate (Coming Soon)


	4. Death by Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something a bit rougher.... Warning for non-con.

“There’s new plates in the second cabinet from the right, Steve says, as he flicks a match, lighting the awful amount of candles that top it (there’s exactly ninety-one—Steve made sure of it). “Careful this time, neither of us have enough Greek in us to explain any more broken china.” Snickering, Bucky takes down two of the delicate little saucers that Steve insists on having despite all odds. One would think that someone as dexterous as Bucky would have no issue, but as it turns out, articulated stainless steel fingers don’t keep much traction on porcelain and are pretty much useless for catching it when it falls. While he’s over in the kitchen, James slides some forks and the cake knife out of a drawer, bringing them over as Steve finishes lighting candle number forty-two. “Steve, Steve—you’re gonna start a house fire. Ya know, the fire department shouldn’t have our address saved—that’s generally a bad thing.”

 

Looking up from the task at hand, Steve nods, “At this point they’ll mostly light each other, so I guess it’s not necessary.” He keeps lighting candles though, shooting Bucky a mischievous look over the small blaze. James watches him for a while to see how long he’s going to keep this up flicking the lights off as he nears the table, but then takes the candle Steve’s lighting the others with from him and blows it out, frowning at his indignant cry of ‘hey!’. “You know, you shouldn’t poke fun—you’ll have more candles than me come next summer.”

 

“Conveniently enough, they have a candle pre-made exactly for that age,” Steve chimes, grinning as he makes a “one, zero, zero” with his hand. “You little shit,” Bucky grumbles, smiling anyway as he sets the table. Reaching under the table, Steve seems to pull a black and blue gift wrapped box out of thin air, setting it on the table as Bucky sits down.

“What’s that?”

“Present.”

“Well that’s a given, numbnuts, but what’s in it?”

“After cake,” Steve says, clearing his throat for the first refrains of ‘Happy Birthday’. Knowing what Steve’s about to do to music and the spectrum of sound  _ in general _ , Bucky whips his hand across the table lightning fast and presses it firmly to Steve’s mouth.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” He says gravely, “I will literally stuff a sock in it.”

 

He can feel the chuckle and sees the mirth in Steve’s eyes, even if he can’t hear it. Watching him closely, he slowly removes his hand, blowing out the candles without even looking at them, watching his friend for any sign of melodic bravery. A wicked smirk curls Steve’s lip and the corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth while smoke circles in the low light. Just as Bucky picks up the cake knife, Steve’s vocal cords make a sound akin to a thousand crows dying—“HAPPY BIR—!!”

Instead of cutting the cake with the knife, James digs a hand into the sugary dessert, and clutching a healthy amount of it, he brings his right hand up in a sudden messy streak, smearing it over Rogers’ mouth and getting some of it in his eyes. Squawking indignantly, Steve wipes the mess off of his face, laughing, “Okay, okay, so I deserve that. Cut the cake already, Bucky.”

Seemingly mollified by Steve’s words, Bucky makes to slice the cake again, and Steve is quiet all throughout it as he brings the thin, dull triangle down into the pastry. As soon as Bucky gets a slice actually on a plate—“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO—“

 

It’s really not Bucky’s fault that half of the cake ends up in Steve’s face, and he really can’t control himself when he pounces on his friend to rub it in some more. Steve doesn’t take it lying down, though, collecting swathes of icing from his own face and smashing the remainders onto Bucky’s face.

 

“Steve—you—you little shit!” Bucky manages to grumble as he holds Steve down to rub his soiled hands over Steve’s clean shirt. Laughing wildly the entire time, his friend wriggles beneath him, pushing Bucky off in order to get some leverage, taking the one slice that managed to get onto a plate from the table and pressing it directly between James's eyes.

 

“Aw, aw c’mon!” Bucky howls, flipping them again to pin Steve against the wood floor. He locks his legs around his troublesome companion’s, taking a moment to wipe his eyes again, flicking cake onto the floor. Groaning, Steve shakes his head, “Don’t make it worse! There’s already icing everywhere!”

 

Chuckling, Bucky surveys the damage—both chairs are overturned and only half of the round cake that Steve made remains on the table. Smears of white and blue icing are everywhere—even places Bucky doesn’t remember them rolling. There’s a pattern of aqua smears across the lower drawers and cabinets, and his eyes follow the trail back to Steve. Something in his brain switches gears then, and his breath shudders as he studies the complex collection of blue and white on his face.

 

“Bucky?” Steve asks worriedly. James can’t seem to make his eyes move from where a streak of white runs from Steve’s lower lip to his chin.

“Bucky? Bucky? Are you with me?”

Rubbing his thumb over the white stain, Bucky bites his own lip, licking the sweetness his tongue finds there. “Yeah…yeah…” he says a little breathlessly. That red flush is starting to fill Steve’s cheeks again, and Bucky feels his body start to react to the sight of Steve, messy and blushing below him. “Fuck,” he whispers when his eyes meet Steve’s blue ones, “Steve, I—I’m—“ he tries to warn him, but it’s too late, and he can nearly feel the Asset push him to the side, pinning Steve’s hands over his head, lowering his body so that they’re chest to chest.

“ _ Shit _ ,” Steve says, eyes wide, and he starts to struggle, “Bucky, Bucky, no—“ He breaks off into a gasp as Bucky licks a stripe of white from his neck to his cheek. “Please, wait— _ ah! _ ” He arches off of the floor as James sucks a red mark just under his ear. “Oh! Oh please!” Suddenly, Steve finds that all the air has gone out of the room as Bucky grinds down on him. The Soldier draws back and smirks at him, “Reward?”

“N-no~ _ ooh! _ ” Panting desperately, Steve’s hips grind up as if of their own volition as the Asset grinds down. Chuckling, the Asset casually rips Steve’s shirt down the middle with one hand as he fends off Steve’s grabbing with the other, and then slowly, as if he’s savoring the look on Steve’s face, he rips the shirt the rest of the way off, twining his hands in the collar and pulling them apart as he presses his chest to Steve’s once more, sucking at the hollow of his collarbone.

 

“You want this,” he whispers with warm breaths into Steve’s skin, “Why do you fight? I can feel how much you want this.” The evidence of it pressing hot below him, solid enough that the Asset could almost just fuck himself on it—and isn’t that a thought?

“It’s not—it’s—ha! Not your reward,” Steve gasps, twisting out of the Soldier’s hold, and crawling away. He makes it to the table before the Soldier is on him; he falls into it, barely standing and reaching for the emergency cell phone that’s supposed to be there, but the Asset pounces on him and the table slides back, slamming into the far wall as Steve’s pressed up against it. The phone skitters just out of reach, and he realizes that Barnes has got him right where he wants him. He’s pressed against Steve’s back, hands on Steve’s hips, one hand deftly flicking his belt open, the other palming Steve’s cock through his pants. Steve curses and tries to move his friend’s hands away, but his pants are already falling, and the Winter Soldier twists his wrist behind his back, and he begs, hoping that Bucky’s in there listening somewhere.

 

“Don’t do this Buck, you’re better than this—“, he hisses as teeth meet the skin on his shoulder blade, “Not —not like this Buck—I can’t—“.

Doing his best to hold him still, the Asset suddenly reaches out, scooping up some icing from off the table, rubbing it  down Steve’s spine and onto the back of his neck, then begins to lick it off, sucking and chuckling as he works his way down. As his mouth goes lower, he forces Steve to bend over the table, going as low as he can before he ’s met with the challenge of holding  Steve down or getting his mouth where he wants it. Wordless, Steve pants roughly into the laminate of the table, his skin burning hot wherever James touches him. His legs are shaking,  _ and they haven’t even _ —he bangs his head against the table to derail that train of thought, but he’s nearly naked and he can feel James's heat against the split of him, barely catching the rim of him through his drawers as he groans pitifully.

 

“B-b-Bucky,” he says in between breaths, the whole of him throbbing with desire, but he still struggles; desperate to save his friend from himself.

Until the hears the dull metallic thud of the cake knife being buried into the table just beside his head.

“Stop. Moving.” The Soldier orders, slowly drawing back, the threat of violence palpable. “If you like, this can be good for both of us, “ he says, almost bored, “or I can just take what’s mine.”.”

 

Still shaking, Steve goes pliant under the  Soldier’s grip. “Good,” he purrs, “I much prefer this way.”  Arranging Steve’s arms against the table over his head, he presses them there and says firmly, “Keep them there.” Nodding weakly, Steve shudders, caught at the crux of his conscience and his body’s calling. Seemingly pleased, the Asset lets go of him, smoothing his hands down Steve’s back and sides, humming brightly, He pulls Steve’s boxer briefs down lazily, groping and sliding his fingers around the band as he slowly pushes them off, lifting Steve’s legs one at a time to push both them and Steve’s rumpled pants aside. Kicking Steve’s legs wide, he spreads him with his thumbs, making agreeable noises as he circles a thumb around Steve’s hole and wrapping a loose fist around his thick length, just tight enough to thumb away a few drops of pre-come from the slit. A broken, ragged moan escapes Steve’s throat, followed by a sob.

 

“Shhh, shhh,” Bucky says, a cruel laughter in his voice, “no crying,” He swipes up more of the cake and icing from the table. “I have you...”

 

Steve’s a little surprised when he feels the slippery icing  _ there _ all of a sudden, especially as Bucky rubs it around, his thumb just breaching him, pushing the icing in. All of a sudden, Steve’s back goes rigid, his hands gripping the edge of the table, white knuckled, easily bending the metal  lining, his mouth opening in a silent scream—too overwhelmed to make a sound, until 

Bucky’s hand goes back to his cock, coating it with white and blue. It’s been too long and Steve’s too keyed up to last any longer. Steve shouts Bucky’s name, choking on it as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, quaking at every thrust of tongue that pierces him, a litany of filth pouring out of his mouth.

 

“Fuck! Wanted—wanted you so bad! Please, god I—please, please, anything--! Oh—“  He writhes against the table, oversensitive and sobbing as Bucky adds his fingers to the mix, licking around where his fingers penetrate, forcing more icing in, slicking it around while Steve pleads for mercy, scissoring them whenever he wants to pull that slutty high-pitched noise from him. Absolutely overwhelmed, Steve babbles,  barely finishing words, let alone sentences, shuddering in relief as Bucky pulls his fingers out, but stiffening in alarm as Bucky flicks his own pants down, lines himself up, coating himself in the already slick mess, and presses in with one continuous deep thrust. Steve grasps at the hand on his hip keeping him still, but Bucky’s metal catches him by the wrist and puts his hand back where it was on the table. He whips Steve’s head back by his short hair, punishing grip still on his wrist, growling. “Keep. Your hands. Still.”

 

To Continue, Midnight Espresso (Coming Soon)

 

To Lighten Up, Vanilla Swirl (Coming Soon)


End file.
